tropicalities

Pacific Islands Monthly

Magazine Section

Australian Whisky Mystery

in New Guinea WHAT becomes of the Australian whisky that is going into New Guinea? Some of the Bainings planters want to know.

In the six months up to Sep tember last, about 300 cases of Australia’s best non-Scottish brew entered through the port of Rabaul; and yet the Europeans around there are staunch drinkers of Scotch —or say they are. There are three explanations.

One is that the Chinese com munity is developing a taste for whisky, and is prepared to accept the Australian brands. Another is that people drink Australian in the privacy of their own homes, and keep the real Scotch for esteemed visitors. The third —and more likely—explanation is that the whisky is used in a foul mixture with methylated spirits, and doled out by racketeers to certain sophisticated native communities.

This kind of racketeering has been so marked lately that a close check is now being kept over the distribution of methylated spirits.

The Labours of Sisyphus SOME half-dozen experienced officials are engaged in what seems to be the endless job of defining native land areas in New Gruinea, and recommending the issue of titles to what appear to oe the rightful native owners.

It might be called a Sisyphusian task. (Sisyphus was the wicked lad :n mythology, who was condemned to the eternal punishment of rolling i stone up a hill, only to see it constantly roll back again).

Examination of rival native land claims takes the officials back into the practices of matriarchal clans, family traditions, even into the side-effects of sorcery. The men cn the job need great patience, combined with a knowledge of native ways and native mentality.

Fiji Thoughts on New

Britain Wharves HAVING a drink one night at Labasa, Fiji, with J. D. Steven son, Fiji Public Works Depart ment district engineer on Vanua bevu, the talk got around to wharf Building.

Jack had built many, but the one he remembered best was the war time one he had put in at Jacquinot Bay, New Britain. Jack, in those days, was Lieut, (later Captain) with 2 Platoon, 17 Field Regt., Royal Australian Engineers, and they had been told to put down a wharf in a hurry.

“And it went down in a real hurry,” remembered Jack. “She was 362 ft long, with some piles 90 ft —we started her on December 28, 1944, and the first ship came along side on February 15, 1945. That’s 48 days.

“We had blokes cutting the piles at Waterfall Bay, 20 miles away— and I’ve often wondered since then whether that wharf is still there.

It wouldn’t surprise me.”

So not long ago, I dropped a per sonal note to Michael Cockburn, who is a patrol officer in that area, to ask him if he could help Jack Stevenson be surprised.

He reports: “No doubt his wharf was built at Palmalmal, as there

were a lot of wharves there. How ever, none of them is now standing.

Presumably they weren’t built to last, and the borers got in, and also the dry rot.

“The Army also built a lot of bridges in the bay, but none of them is standing, and as a matter of fact you would never know there had ever been any in some places except that you can see the abutments.

“An exception is the airstrip, which we recently got into service again. No major work was required on the surface.”

Mike Cockburn adds a footnote for Stevenson’s benefit: “Ask him if he knew Harry Bode, who was here with an RAE unit. Harry now owns Wunung Plantation in the Bay.”—Sl.

Advice to Tourists

A Correspondent In Apia

sends along this note: “I was sitting on the verandah the other day with a book on my knee, when a party of tourists from the Tofua went by. They were loaded to the plimsolls with baskets and mats, and how they ever get them on to the ship’s launch I don’t know. One fellow had the biggest basket I’ve ever seen—about the size of one of Ali Baba’s jars. He could have climbed into it out of sight.

“Anyhow, when they had finally

CHRISTMAS PRESENT. Sub-Inspector Bill Curtis, of the Royal P-NG Constabulary, bagged this 13-ft crocodile with his first shot as it was swimming offshore in front of the Hotel Cecil, Lae, early this year. A correspondent sent PIM this photograph soon after, but it became lost somewhere between IM's editorial office and the blockmakers. It turned up again only recently—and the Tropicalities editor then had the problem of deciding if the Dicture was too stale to print. He decided it wasn't. "Shooting your first croco dile" he insisted, "is like shooting your first Shrdlu Surp. Your friends have to see it to believe it" So here it is, presented as a kind of Christmas present, if you like, for Sub-Inspector Curtis.

struggled by I picked up the book again, a very interesting copy of Dineen’s Commercial Directory and Tourists’ Guide to the South Pacific Islands, 1903 edition, and the very next paragraph I read said this: ‘Our advice to tourists is to restrain their propensity to purchase many curios, or to pluck too eagerly botanical specimens on first landing.

If you collect too eagerly at first you will overcrowd yourself, and probably throw away much of your earlier collections. There is no stint here, and by waiting for a little experience, which soon comes, a better and more choice collection will be made, and labour will not be wasted.’

“They should paste that on the noticeboard of all Islands’ tourist vessels!”

Associate Member

WE handful of Europeans gathered at Aitape, NG, in the early Twenties found we were all of Scots descent. So over a few noggins one day we decided on forming a branch of the Caledonian Society.

Aitape then was perhaps the most isolated outpost of the old Man dated Territory and there were not a lot of us. I think there were the ADO, a patrol officer, a medical assistant, Charlie Beckett, the wire less man, Wally Hook, Dusty Millar and just one or two others. Any how, the point was that a count of glasses showed we were one short of a quorum.

But that was fixed after a few more noggins. We went out and got in the Chinese storekeeper, who after a solemn christening was care fully entered in the books as McNing King.— Morobe.